Jaime Brienne fix-it post 8x04
by WolframMatter
Summary: The beginnings of a Jaime/Brienne fix-it for 8x04. *obviously spoilers* We follow Jaime as he rides away from Winterfell. Because Brienne deserves better than what the show suggested, and this fic will give it to her (eventually). [Jaime/Brienne, Arya/Gendry, Arya & the Hound]
1. Chapter 1

It has always broken his heart to see her disappointed.

That is why he shouldn't have allowed himself to sleep with her - even though she was so tempting, and Tormund was so godamn _unnecessary_, and everything in him called him to do it.

He shouldn't have, because he knew his hard battle wasn't done.

It would always come down to him and Cersei. If he had honour left in his heart, and the way Brienne said _stay with me_, the way she begged, well it makes him feel like he has none. But if had, part of it would be that if his sister needed to be killed for the good of them all, he would give her a good death.

He was the Kingslayer. He could be the Queenslayer too.

It could never be anything, but a lonely role.

* * *

Jaime rides fast and hard away from Winterfell. It keeps his focus on the the aches of the saddle and away from everything else.

At the end of the first day on the road, he spots a huge man at the turn ahead. He's dark-haired, riding a large horse, next to a smaller figure on a lighter one. The _Hound_? Jaime can't risk confronting them, here, now. He doesn't know how much he might give away when he explains why he left. So he dismounts, walks his horse through the trees at the side of the road until the sky begins to darken.

As he treads quietly he creates and discards a hundred plans for how best to approach Cersei when he reaches King's Landing.

It would be safer to wait longer, but he can't afford to lose the time, so he returns to his horse and rides through the start of the night.

He reaches a town in the midnight darkness. He chooses the worst-looking pub and keeps his head down, just in case.

As he goes round the back to find feed for his horse, a small, wide man ambles up to him. The man looks like an idiot, with loose jowels and unmuscled weight. He has a mean look though, like he's too lazy to create real trouble, but he'll do what harm he can to easy targets.

The man stands idly as Jaime offers feed to his horse, posturing. Maybe he saw a man without his hand and thought Jaime was easy pickings.

"You looking for something?" Jaime asks, keeping his voice rough, low-bred. It reminds him of travelling as Brienne's captive.

"I've a message."

"Not for me. I've got no friends round 'ere."

"It's from a Lady, up at Winterfell."

"Lady - _Brienne_? Do you mean Ser Brienne of Tarth?" Jaime's voice is tight, his breath quick. He can't help himself from grabbing the man's shirt.

"Not that lady, Ser. The Lady's that the Queen, up here in the North."

_"_Lady Sansa. Well, man, what is it?_" _

The cold blade of a dagger presses against Jaime's throat. He staggers backwards, throws a punch, but the blade presses deeper, and another knife points to his stomach.

No way can this man be this quick. This is the speed of an assassin, and a killer's eyes.

"Did Lady Sansa send you to kill me?"

"Lady Sansa," Arya Stark tells him, ripping off the man's face to reveal her own. "Sent the message to _me_."

"And you stabbed the messenger?"

"This man was on the town pyre for [his crimes]. I simply sped up his execution."

"Between you and the beast you travel with, you hardly needed to sneak up on me."

"I'd rather my journey not be known to any watching eyes. Besides, I think I might need the practice."

The blade presses closer into Jaime's throat. He feels warm blood trickle down his neck. Does she mean to kill him, and wear his face to gain Cersei's trust?

He holds both hands up in surrender.

* * *

_**Author Notes: **_

Will be continuing soon, so follow/favourite if you want updates! I'm trying to create a fix-it for both Arya and Jaime, but it might take some work to create after the heartbreak of 8x04...


	2. Chapter 2

"I could kill a man like you, Jaime Lannister."

"You could." Jaime reaches his fingers down - slowly, so slowly - to the sword at his belt. "You easily could. But I've harmed no one at Winterfell. I fought beside you."

"And now you're betraying us." Arya Stark speaks with no sympathy. Her words carry the weight of the inevitable.

He does not have much time before someone arrives into the yard. This far North, a Stark will receive loyalty and a Lannister will burn.

So in a sudden movement Jaime knees Arya in the stomach and pushes the dagger at his throat away - it slices into his hand, but better hand than throat. He draws his sword and points it towards her. A sharp press into his stomach stops him stepping away from the wall at his back.

They are at a stalemate: Arya holding a dagger at his stomach, Jaime with a sword pricking her pale neck. His hand throbs where he had grabbed her blade.

"I don't plan to betray you."

"No?" Arya's voice is as sharp as broken glass. "You love Cersei. I plan to kill her."

He can't help the raw dread at her words. Even though it is what he wants, what he is travelling to King's Landing to achieve. He can't help picturing his sister lying in blood, her expression shocked, a silently satisfied Arya standing above her. Perhaps wearing his own face. He imagines Cersei's corpse paraded through the city, proving to the anxious citizens that the bitch really is dead.

"I do love her," he says. "I also understand what she's done." He lifts his shoulder and drops it - careful, because of the knife. He won't apologise for loving her, even though it is half love, half obsession. Loving Cersei is the best and worst of who he is.

But it is not all of it.

Behind Arya he sees the Hound lumber into the tavern yard. Great. This clusterfuck was only getting worse.

"Are you going to stab him or not?" Clegane asks. "Chatting in the cold does fuck all."

Jaime can't escape the Stark girl and Clegane. Combined they are speed and strength, assassin and brute. He might have a sword to her throat, but the game is hers.

He lowers his sword and waits for Arya to speak.

Eventually, she does. "You left Brienne behind. For Cersei." Arya spits his sister's name.

"You all left people in your beds," the Hound says before Jaime can find an answer. Arya flinches at that, and then digs her dagger deeper into his stomach. There's something there, clearly. Who was it she left behind?

He tries to reason. "Clegane is on this mad quest to kill his brother, no?"

"Not kill," the Hound grunts. "Destroy."

"Well, I'm here to put down my sister. Once and for all."

Arya's voice is incredulous. "I'm supposed to beli-"

"I don't care what you believe. I care whether you're planning on trying to stop me. I haven't got an awful left to lose, Lady Stark."

Arya leans in to him, her mouth exhaling warm breath into his face. "You tried to kill my brother."

He swallows. Nothing comes to his mouth. They have all tried to murder each other in this bloody game of Kings. But his was worse than most, because Bran was a child, and Bran had never moved against him.

The silence stretches.

Arya takes away her knife. "It's good that you're quiet."

Jaime feels a flood of relief, and then a knucle-blow lands on his face, another in his stomach, and a kick to his legs drops him to the ground. He gasps for breath as blood drips from his nose. He can taste it. A boot smashes his head into the mud.

He lies on his back, and thinks he hears them leave. The low voice says something more to him, but Jaime can't process the words.

He wishes, absurdly, that Brienne was here. But then he is fiercely fiercely glad she is not, and that she is safe as anyone can be right now, this far into the deadly game.

Arya had not killed him. For now, he is safe, and his face is his own.

* * *

_Notes_

_I know this is delayed, but here is the next chapter of an alternate Jaime/Brienne ending (now definitely de-canonified). _


End file.
